my cumbrous body, and on the wing for Elysium," (the place where the ancient Romans supposed the virtuous would dwell after death,) "and some superior Being should meet me in my flight, and make me an offer of returning and re-animating my body, I should, without hesitation, reject his offer: so much rather would I go to Elysium, to reside with Socrates and Plato, and all the ancient worthies, and spend my time in conversing with them." But could a heathen thus triumph in the thought of enjoying his poor miserable paradise, and prefer it even to life, how much more may a Christian triumph in the exulting thought, that he shall spend an eternity with the wisest, the holiest, the happiest of Beings, that ever came out of the creative hand of God: yea, that he shall spend an eternity with Jesus, the Mediator of the New Covenant, the joy of his heart, and the delight of his eyes; where he shall fix his ever-waking eyes on the infinite beauty of his adorable Lord; yea, if it were possible, would think eternity itself too short for the beholding and admiring such transcendent excellencies, and for the solemnizing those heavenly espousals between Christ and his most beloved spouse, when all the powers of heaven shall triumph for joy, and a concert of seraphims for ever sing the wedding-song.

2dly. The whole life of a Christian is founded on a hope, which cannot be accomplished but by dying. How exceedingly

mistaken must he be, who fears that which alone can gratify his highest wishes; and is the great end of all kis pursuits. What does the Christian chiefly hope for? Is it not the full enjoyment, of his God in the realms of bliss? Is it not the restoration of his whole nature to the image of God, in which it was first created; and the recovery of that Paradise, which he has lost by the fall: a Paradise, the glories of which shall be inconceivably heightened by the union of the Divine and human natures in the person of the Second Adam, the Son of God? Is it not to live for ever with his adorable and most beloved Saviour, to be with him where he is, and to behold the glory which the Father hath given him? Is it not to sit with Christ on his throne, according to his most gracious promise, even as Christ sits with his Father on his throne? Is it not to join the redeemed and the innumerable hosts of angels, in singing continually allelujahs, salvation, and glory, and honour, and power to God and the Lamb? In short, is it not to see God face to face, to enjoy the beatific vision, to experience an inconceivably closer union band communion with God, than we possibly can during the present scene of things, to be for ever blest in the close embraces of the Sovereign Good? But can we be possessors of these mighty joys, without passing through the valley of the shadow of death? And shall Christian be afraid of that which alone can

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enable him to realize the glorious hope, which is the very support of his life? Should it not rather be the language of his soul, "I desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ, which is far better?"

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3dly. Death is no more than a quiet sleep. Thus it is frequently represented in the oracles of God. "Behold, thou shalt sleep with thy fathers. Many that sleep in the dust shall awake. Our friend Lazarus sleepeth. phen fell asleep. I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not as others, which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus, will God bring with him. For we which are alive, and remain unto the coming of the Lord, shall not pre. vent them which are asleep. Some are fallen asleep. They are fallen asleep in Christ. The fathers fell asleep." The inspired writers seem to delight in the metaphor, when applied to the death of the faithful: and what can be more expressive? The weary labourer lays himself down to sleep until the morning, and the Christian takes his sleep in the grave until the morning of the resurrection, only with this essential difference; the common sleep of nature deprives us of the natural light, but the sleep of death brings the believer to the vision of the true and otherwise inac cessible light. Why then should the Chris. tian be afraid of death? Surely he may take

the serpent into his bosom; for he has not only lost his sting, but is reconciled to the believer, and become one of his party. "Therefore," says St. Paul, "Whether life or death, all is yours:" and again, "To me, to live is Christ, and to die, is gain." And well may the Christian rejoice in death, and welcome the pleasing messenger; for it is the hand of death which draws the curtain, and lets him in to see God face to face in heaven, that palace of inestimable pleasure and delight, where the strongest beams of glory shall beat fully upon our faces, and we shall be made strong enough to bear them. Neither does death do any real injury to our bodies, since they shall be new moulded at the resurrection: when "this mortal shall put on immortality, and this corruptible put on incorruption:" when these dull lumps shall become as im passible as the angelic nature, subtle as a ray' of light, bright as the sun, nimble as lightning. Who is there, that is truly armed with this helmet of salvation, this hope of heaven, who would for a moment, desire to have the law of death reversed? Surely a holy soul may frequently be breathing forth desires, (though with due resignation,) after the kind office of death, to deliver it into so great and incomprehensible a glory.

IV. I now proceed, in the fourth place, to draw some inferences from what has been advanced.

1st. If death be so certain and unavoida. ble, and it be "appointed unto men once to die," what exquisite folly is it to suffer our affections to cleave to any thing here below! How painful must the parting be, when we are drawn from our dearest idols, from our chief joy! How different is the concluding scene of the pious, and the unregenerate! Angels are waiting to receive the former, and to accompany them to their beloved Bridegroom, their adorable Lord; whilst devils are ready to seize upon the latter, and to bring them to their place of torment. Some of the volup tuous heathen were accustomed to bring in the resemblance of a skeleton to their feasts, in order to remind their guests of their fa vourite motto, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die:" Let us indulge ourselves in every pleasure of sense, since annihilation daily approaches, and we shall then sink into an eternal sleep. How much better is the advice of the Apostle: " But this I say, brethren, the true is short. It remaineth, that both they that have wives, be as though they had none; and they that weep, as though they wept not; and they that rejoice, as though they rejoiced not; and they that buy, as though they possessed not; and they that use this world, as not abusing it; for the fashion of this world passeth away." Why should

any thing this world can allure us with, be of any price in a wise man's esteem? Both they